


Poor Communication

by Hazel_Athena



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: But like with feelings, Established Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, PWP, boys being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: Faraday meets Vasquez’s ensuing glare as best he can, and prays that he ends up walking away from this little stunt with only minimal retribution. Vasquez is not a particularly nice man when crossed.“Now then,” he says as firmly as he can manage. “Let’s talk, shall we?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to say that this was supposed to be a quick, sexy one-shot, and then it developed a life of it's own. I'm not particularly happy with how it turned out, but I also can't look at it any longer. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it anyway.

In the grand scheme of things, Faraday decides as he steps out of the boarding house and onto the dusty street, the town isn’t much to look at it. He imagines many folks don’t even know it exists – it being so small and so new that it might not even show up on any but the most recent of maps. Still, he muses while he makes his way along the road with a particular destination in mind, at least it’s not entirely without its merits.

He sets his sights on the saloon they’d passed on their ride into town. It wasn’t a terribly impressive building, but it was bound to have alcohol and probably a few well-meaning folks who he could convince to part with their money over a round or two of cards. For his part, that’s all Faraday requires for a night of entertainment.

The bar’s about half full when he steps inside, with most of the patrons appearing to be locals based on the way they all seem to know each other. Faraday nods at one man who’s in the process of shuffling a deck of cards, and makes a note to return to his table once he’s acquired himself some spirits.

There’s a woman manning the bar, which isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but is still uncommon enough for it to momentarily bring him up short. She’s well past middle age, as evidenced by the crows feet around her eyes and the way there’s more silver in her hair than the original red, but the grin she gives him as he sidles up to the bar is damn near blinding, and Faraday finds himself liking her immediately.

“You’re a new one,” she says as he comes to a stop in front of her and rests his elbows on the wooden countertop. “What do they call you then?”

“Faraday, ma’am. Joshua Faraday.” He gives her a grin and tips an imaginary hat to her – imaginary because he’d left his back in the room, not having felt the need to drag anything more than he’d want with him for a night of drinking.

The woman continues to match Faraday’s grin with one of her own. “Well, now, Mr. Faraday, what brings you to our neck of the woods? You’re a bit off the beaten path, I’ve got to tell you.”

And wasn’t that the truth. If it hadn’t been for Sam sending them out this way to do some scouting related to their latest job, Faraday doubts they’d ever have stumbled across this place. “Just passin’ through on a bit of business,” he replies, deciding that’s enough to say on the matter. “I’m only in town for tonight and I figured I may as well take in the sights.”

“Then you’ve taken ‘em in,” she says affably. “I’m afraid we don’t have much to offer. Though,” and here she drops her voice down low as a wicked light dances in her eyes, “I’m sure we can find you somethin’ to suit your fancy.”

Faraday has a sneaking suspicion there’s far more than is immediately obvious lurking within that statement, but he’s equally certain it’s not anything he’s interested in taking her up on. That’s why his only response is a quick shrug as he opens his mouth and says, “A glass of whiskey’d suit me just fine, and then I’m of a mind to go find me a card game.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, the motion fast enough that Faraday can’t help but wonder if she’s a little put off by his response, but she reaches down beneath the bar and comes up with a half full bottle in one hand and an empty glass in the other. At Faraday’s nod, she pours a generous amount of the former into the latter and offers it over with a smile. “You can pay up on your way out.”

Taking the glass, Faraday salutes her with it as he pushes back and away from the bar. “Much obliged, Ma’am.”

She laughs at him as he goes, and Faraday wanders off with his drink in hand as he casts his eyes about the room, looking for the man with the cards from earlier. Most of the time Faraday prefers to play with his own deck, but as that has occasionally gotten him run out of towns before, and as a certain someone who shall currently remain nameless had made it abundantly clear that he was spending the night in a real bed come hell or high water, a local dealer would have to do.

He finally spots his quarry sitting at a table near the back of the room, obviously holding court over the two other men who’ve come to join him while Faraday was getting his drink. Meandering his way over to the table takes Faraday no time at all, and the young man with the cards barely bats an eye when Faraday steps over and drops down into the only remaining free seat at the table.

“Evenin’, gentlemen,” Faraday says brightly, nodding at each of the three other men in turn. “I don’t suppose you’ve got room tonight for little old me, do you?”

The dealer shares a look with his two companions, getting a shrug from one and a jerky nod from the other, and then turns his attention back to Faraday. “I reckon we could make some space for you. What was it I heard you tell Ms. Calloway your name was? Farabray?”

“Faraday,” he corrects. “But that’s close enough to count. I’m just passin’ through.”

“You and some other fella,” one of his new companions says, speaking up for the first time. At Faraday’s look of surprise, he offers up a shrug in response. “I work over at the stables, noticed there were a couple of horses I didn't recognize when I got there earlier and the owner said he was rentin’ space to a pair of men who’d just come into town.”

“Only for tonight,” Faraday replies. “We’re in the middle of a job and have to get back at it come the morning.”

“Mm,” the man hums a little, all thoughtful like. “Which one of the horses is yours? The white gelding or the stallion with the attitude problem?”

Faraday grins. “That stallion happens to go by the name of Jack, and, no, before you ask, he is not for sale. Or for betting,” he adds, the memory of what happened the last time he’d pulled such a stunt still fresh in his mind even after all these months.

The man sighs. “Pity. He’s a real beauty of an animal.”

“That he is,” Faraday agrees. “And he’s a real beauty of an animal who shall continue to be mine.”

The man sighs again and tips his drink in Faraday’s direction in recognition of the point. “Fair enough. Alan Hodge, at your service. That’s Malcolm dealing the cards there and Ethan is the fellow who never has much to say. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” Faraday says with a nod. “Now, what’re we playin’?”

They go on for upwards of an hour, and Faraday manfully resists the urge to try any funny business. It goes against pretty much every instinct he has, even when he doesn’t have to swindle folks he still likes to keep his hand in, but Hodge and his friends are decent enough folks and Faraday doesn’t need to be cheating them out of their money. Plus, he’s by far the best card player at the table, so it’s hardly like he’s lost more than he’s won.

He’s just won the latest round when Ethan thumps his empty glass down on the table with a heavy sigh. Beside him, Hodge huffs a laugh.

“You’re always so dramatic, man. Just go get another damned drink if you want one.”

For some reason that makes Malcom snicker. “You know he won’t,” he says, still chuckling. “That’s too likely to put him in Ms. Calloway’s sights for his tastes.”

Ethan, who as Hodge had said is, indeed, a man of few words, growls low under his breath, making both his friends laugh.

Faraday, forever a man with a nose for trouble, perks up at this. “I assume by Ms. Calloway, you are referring to the charming young lady manning the bar in these parts?”

Hodge snorts out another laugh. “That’s not all she mans in these parts. She owns the whole saloon and oversees every part of it.”

“Sounds like the kind of woman one would want to befriend,” Faraday says after having considered this for a moment. “A man could find himself awful parched if he pissed off the only person in control of the town’s alcohol supply.”

Malcom grins at this and raises his own glass towards Faraday in a mocking salute. “Trust me, Mr. Faraday, when I say that alcohol is not the only thing a man might find himself missing if he gets himself on the wrong side of Ms. Calloway.”

“Ah,” Faraday says as he remembers the woman’s earlier offer. He’d thought she’d been indicating the possibility of his enjoying her own company later in the evening, but perhaps she had meant something far more … contractual. “I see. By that am I to assume that Ms. Calloway is a purveyor of all sorts of entertainments in this town?”

“If that’s your way of saying she runs a fuckin’ brothel then, yes.” Hodge says bluntly. “I’m surprised she didn’t try and stake you out for an evening with one of her girls when you were up there earlier.”

Faraday snickers and pulls a cigarette out of his pocket. Lighting it easily he takes a drag and glances back over at Hodge as he slowly blows out a puff of smoke. “Now that you mention it, I’m not entirely sure she didn’t.”

“Aye, that sounds like Hettie Calloway, sure enough. She’s a good woman,” Hodge adds when Faraday cocks an eyebrow at him. “Just a bit … er … forward when it comes to business propositions.”

Laughing, Faraday brings the cigarette to his lips again and grins around the table. “Would that forwardness be why poor Ethan here is somewhat nervous over her?”

Ethan’s entire face flushes red as red can be – and thanks to his own fair complexion Faraday knows how red that is – and he pokes despondently at his empty glass. “Just for that you’ve now volunteered to go get me a refill. I’m not goin’ near that woman when I can send fresh meat her way instead.”

“Well,” Faraday drawls, “as it happens I’m in need of a new drink myself and I’m therefore willing to show you that kindness. Also, I’ve faced far more frightening things in my day.”

Ethan makes a face at him, while Hodge and Malcolm laugh, and Faraday rests his cigarette in a nearby ashtray as he gets up from the table.

Faraday makes his way back over to the bar, but it’s picked up enough now that he has to wait a couple of minutes before Ms. Calloway is able to find her way down to him.

“Back again are you, Mr. Faraday?” She asks when she spots him.

“That I am.” Faraday agrees. He places both his and Ethan’s empty glasses down in front of him. “I need a couple of refills if you don’t mind, Ms. Calloway.”

“Oh,” she says, her wicked grin from before immediately sliding back into place. “I see you’ve learned my name. Have your new friends been telling you scandalous stories about me? I know full well that my other business pursuits are sometimes a topic of conversation with that lot.” Her face hardens ever so slightly. “For the record, I’m not ashamed of them. I’ve a right to make a living, sure enough.”

Faraday raises his hands to word off the potential of a further diatribe. “Ma’am, I promise you I am not here to judge, I just want a couple more glasses of whiskey.”

She deflates a little at that, and Faraday thinks he can see the faintest blush tinting her cheeks. “My apologies, Mr. Faraday. Not everyone around these parts appreciates all of my business endeavours and it can be hard to know who’s going to react in what way.”

“Again,” Faraday says, reaching forward and nudging his two glasses slightly, “I’m just after a couple drinks.”

“Are you sure that’s all I can interest you in?” As Faraday watches, her face shifts back into the grin from earlier – he idly wonders if it’s something of a default setting for her – “I’ve plenty upstairs that might catch your eye, and I figure a handsome fellow like you would likely catch theirs.”

Faraday can’t help but chuckle at her antics, but he once again taps the glasses. “Like I said, just the drinks, Ma’am.”

“Really?” She asks dubiously. “I have to tell you, Mr. Faraday, I didn’t imagine you’d be this difficult to convince. What is it? You got more exotic tastes? Because I’ve got girls of all sorts working for me – even got a dark-eyed Mexican beauty if that works for you.”

Unable to help himself, Faraday throws his head back and laughs at this suggestion. “I assure you,” he says once he’s back under control again and can meet her amused gaze head on, “all I want is a drink. Or rather, two drinks. One for me, and one for one of my new friends back at the card table.”

She eyes him for a few seconds, before finally huffing out a laugh, her face smoothing into something a little less sharp, a little less predatory. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for tryin’. Two things of whiskey is it?”

“That’ll do just fine,” Faraday says agreeably, watching as she pours them as requested and then picking one up in each hand once they’re ready. “Thank you kindly.”

As Faraday approached the table, drinks in hand, he sees Malcolm unsubtly hand Hodge a couple of coins. “Do I want to know?” He asks as he reclaims his seat and slides Ethan’s drinks over to him.

“He tried to convince me you wouldn’t be back,” Hodge says, tapping a couple playing cards absently on the table top. “I told him if he was so sure you’d get shanghaied by Ms. Calloway, he should put his money where his mouth was. Idiot took the bet.”

“Ah,” Faraday says. He gives Malcolm an apologetic nod. “Sorry about that.”

Malcolm just gives him an airy wave of his hand, and reaches out to pull the wayward cards out of Hodge’s grasp. Adding them back into the deck, he shuffles them all briefly before starting to deal them out again. “Ain’t your fault,” he says, not sounding bothered in the slightest.

Faraday’s not entirely sure that’s true, but he’s willing to go with it if Malcolm is. Retrieving his half-smoked cigarette from the ashtray he accepts his own cards with a thankful nod and let’s that be that.

They play a few more rounds, but this time when Faraday’s drink runs out he doesn’t make any noise about getting a new one and goes so far as to shake his head when Hodge suggests he do so.

“Nah,” he says, shuffling the cards in his hands and stubbing out his latest cigarette in the ashtray. “I’m afraid this is my last round boys. Unlike you lot I’ve got an early start ahead of me.”

Ethan, who apparently runs a farm on the outskirts of town and will likely be up and about hours before Faraday so much as cracks his eyes open, snorts.

Faraday grins back at him, but doesn’t comment.

They play out the last round, and then Faraday makes his goodbyes with a minimum of fuss. They’re nice enough boys but he hardly expects to see any of them again, doesn’t imagine he’ll be back this way again barring unforeseen circumstances.

Ms. Calloway doesn’t move over to him this time when he approaches her bar, but he still catches her eye so that she sees when he drops enough coinage to cover his few drinks and she gives him an approving nod in response. She tilts her head ever so slightly towards the stairs leading up to the second floor of the saloon, and Faraday shakes his head with a laugh, jerking his head in the direction of the exit instead. The look she gives him in response transmits the words ‘suit yourself’ clear as anything, and he moves away with another laugh and a wave of his hand.

It’s cooled off somewhat once he’s back outside, albeit not enough to require anything warmer than what he’s wearing now, and it causes him to quicken his pace as he points himself in the direction of the boarding house. The street is empty as he makes his way along it, and even the boarding house has no one but a bored looking woman manning the front desk when he comes inside. Faraday gives her a slight nod that she barely acknowledges with an aborted wave, and makes his way to the stairs.

Vasquez doesn’t look up when Faraday shuffles into their room, turning so that he can close and lock the door behind him. He’s got his head buried in some kind of ledger, frowning down at it as he makes notes that likely only he will be able to parse out the meaning of.

“Are you still at that?” Faraday asks as he wanders over to one of the room’s rickety chairs so that he can sit down and begin the process of hauling his boots off. “I was gone for at least a couple of hours and you don’t look like you’ve so much as moved an inch.”

“Sí, guero.” Vasquez says absently, still not looking up from his work. “I figure one of us should know what we’re doing when we get to the meeting place.”

“Now that’s just hurtful,” Faraday says, getting one boot off and switching his attention to the other. “Are you implying I’m not pullin’ my weight around here?”

“The only place you pulled your weight tonight was to the saloon,” Vasquez replies, sounding indifferent.

“That I did,” Faraday admits sunnily, unbothered by Vasquez’s apparently irritable disposition. “And I’ll have you know I enjoyed myself too. Even though I’d have liked it better with your company.”

Vasquez does look up at that, but only so that he can make sure Faraday sees it when he rolls his eyes. “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere, Faraday.”

“Who said anythin’ about flattery?” Faraday asks. Now free of his boots, he turns to unfastening his gun belt, laying it out on the table once he’s got it off. Then he moves on to undoing his vest. “I invited you to come along before I left, and you said no. That’s all there is to it.”

“Because I was _working_ ,” Vasquez says, putting a particular stress on the last word. “You remember what that means, yes?”

Faraday shrugs. “Can’t say I’ve ever been overly fond of the concept to be honest.” He says, snickering when Vasquez makes a face at him.

“Besides,” he adds, stretching out in his seat, resting his hands over his stomach and crossing his ankles one over the other, “you’ve been through that damn ledger a thousand times at this point. The numbers ain’t gonna be any different than they were the first time Sam handed it to you. All you’re gonna get from hunchin’ over the damn thing is a crick in your neck. Again.” He adds pointedly.

Vasquez tries to give him a frosty glare, but it’s one laced with a sheepish edge and is all Faraday needs to know he’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Honestly,” Faraday huffs, absently drumming his heel on the floor for a few seconds. “It’s like you think I don’t have functional eyes in my head sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you shoot, guero,” Vasquez tells him. “I know your eyesight is fine.”

Faraday rolls the eyes in question because that wasn’t at all what he’d been getting at, and they both know it. Grunting, he hauls himself into a standing position and then moves the few steps it takes him to reach the bed where Vasquez is sitting, the floorboards cool under his bare feet as he goes.

“Gimme the book,” he says as he settles down slightly behind Vasquez. When Vasquez makes no move to hand it over, Faraday shifts to reach around him and forcibly tugs it out of his hand, dropping it on the small table at the side of the bed once he’s gotten it free. “You’ve been starin’ at the thing all night now. Let it alone for a while, would you?”

Vasquez makes an annoyed noise, but makes no move to get the book back. Faraday strongly suspects he’d been in no mood to go anywhere tonight, and had merely used studying the ledger – a piece of intel Sam had picked up for their latest well-paying good deed and handed over to Vasquez when he’d decided he and Faraday would be the first to make contact with its original owners - as an excuse to refuse Faraday’s offer to join him.

“Here,” he says, and bring his hands up and digging his fingers into the meat of Vasquez’s shoulders, able to feel the heat coming off him through the thin linen of the undershirt he’s wearing. Unsurprisingly, the man’s back is one long line of tension after hours spent curled around the stupid book. “You’ve got yourself all tied in knots again and there’s no reason for it. What is it with you tonight? Why didn’t you just come out with me instead?”

He presses his thumb against one particularly stubborn knot and Vasquez grunts at the action. “Go lower,” he mutters, voice rough, and Faraday does as instructed. This time he earns himself an approving groan as he works a series of kinks out of Vasquez’s back.

“See now, if this is what ‘working’, as you call it, does to you, then I want no part of it. I reckon my night was much more fun than yours.”

“Mm?” Vasquez hums, turning his head just enough that he can look at Faraday out of the corner of one eye. “And what did you get up to, then?” He frowns, considering, and then adds, “Please tell me you didn’t fleece anyone out of their savings. I meant it when I said I wanted to use a real bed tonight, and I am not above abandoning you if the nice townspeople decide to run you off.”

Faraday makes a face and scoffs at him. “You are too,” he says, as sure and certain of that as he’s ever been of anything in his life. “And not even because Sam and the others would look at you all disapprovin’ like.” He adopts an overly affected tone, his voice going syrupy and sweet in a way he knows will have Vasquez rolling his eyes. “You’re too fond of me to leave me to a bunch of rage-fueled townies.”

“Do you want to put money on that?” Vasquez asks, leaning his head forward so that Faraday can get better access to the back of his neck.

“No, I do not,” Faraday affirms, “but only because I’m dead certain I’m right and it’d be rude to swindle you out of your money in that kind of scenario.”

Vasquez huffs a laugh, and reaches a hand back to pat half-heartedly at Faraday’s knee. “Whatever makes you feel better, geuro. However, you didn’t answer my question. What were you doing tonight?”

“Went over to the saloon,” Faraday says, as if that should be anything resembling a surprise. “Had a few drinks, played a few hands of cards, got propositioned by the woman who runs the local brothel. The usual.”

“Only you, Faraday,” Vasquez says, letting out another one of those low, quiet laughs of his. “What’d you say to her?”

“That the only thing I was interested in was a drink. She was a mite pushy though, I have to admit. I don’t think she believed I was serious about passin’ up the opportunity, at least not at first. She backed off after I said no a few times.”

“Pushy indeed,” Vasquez shifts so that he can turn around to look Faraday in the eye, giving him a searching look. “She must have really wanted you.”

“Wanted my money is more like it,” Faraday mutters. He prods at Vasquez until he gets the message and turns back around so that Faraday can continue on with what he was doing. “She wasn’t even tryin’ to get me for herself. Kept tellin’ me that she had all manner of girls in her employ to tickle my fancy. Hell, she even offered me the services of one of your countrymen at one point. Or countrywomen, rather.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” Faraday replies. “Said she had a ‘dark-eyed Mexican beauty’ workin’ for her, on the off chance that I might be interested, I suppose.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I laughed,” Faraday admits. “I couldn’t help it,” he says, and then adds slyly, “I didn’t have the heart to tell her I already had one of those waitin’ for me back in my room.”

For some reason that causes Vasquez to make an annoyed sound and pull himself out of Faraday’s reach, shifting along the bed until he’s positioned beside Faraday instead of in front of him. “Hey,” Faraday protests, confused. “Where’re you goin’?”

Vasquez makes the annoyed sound again, and crosses his arms over his chest. “Not going anywhere, guero. You’re the one who didn’t want to stay in tonight.”

Faraday blinks. This little display is doing nothing to lessen his confusion. “The hell’s the matter with you, Vas?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Vasquez grunts.

“Somethin’,” Faraday disagrees. He tries to shift back into Vasquez’s space again, but the ensuing glare he receives stops him in his tracks. “Oh, come on, you could at least tell me what I did to piss you off.”

“I’m not pissed off,” Vasquez insists. Faraday’d be a lot more willing to believe him he didn’t have his back up like a wild animal. “I’m _fine_.”

Faraday snorts. The last time he’d heard Vasquez use that particular tone for the word ‘fine’, he’d had a bullet in his shoulder and none of the good, painkilling drugs in sight. Faraday isn’t about to take it at face value.

“C’moonnn,” he says again, voice pitched low as he drags out the words. “We’ve got the rest of the night and a room with a lockin’ door to ourselves. Are you really gonna tell me you want to waste it snipin’ at me?”

“Oh, so _now_ you want to stay in the room?” Vasquez makes an unimpressed face. “I see.”

“Well that makes one of us,” Faraday grouses. Deciding he’s willing to risk potentially losing the limb, he pokes Vasquez in the hip with a finger. “What’s gotten into you? You were fine when I left earlier.”

“So you say,” Vasquez says. He squirms further out of Faraday’s reach, his frown still firmly in place.

Backing off, Faraday flops down on his back, resting his head against one of the two pillows, and casts his eyes heavenward in the off chance that the Almighty might have the decency to grant him with some answer. When a few minutes have passed in tense silence and the good Lord hasn’t seen fit to provide him with any help, he rolls over onto his side and props himself up on one elbow, resting his head in the palm of his hand.

Vasquez, who’s leaning against the wall and continuing to look displeased, eyes him warily.

Faraday gives him his best grin, beaming up at him. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong yet?”

“I already said nothing is wrong.” Vasquez reminds him.

“Sure,” Faraday agrees, shrugging as best he can given the position he’s in. “But you’re lyin’, so …” He trails off, hoping Vasquez will take the hint and fill the void his words have left behind.

No such luck. Vasquez remains stubbornly tight-lipped.

“Ugh, Vaasss,” Faraday whines. He scrubs tiredly at his face with his free hand, wishing he could reach out and touch the other man, but not daring to when he’s acting this prickly. “If you’re not gonna tell me what I did, I can’t fix it.”

“Hmph,” says Vasquez, ever helpful.

Rolling onto his back again, Faraday buries his face in his hands and groans theatrically. “Alright,” he says, when this achieves nothing. “Alright, I can figure this out. Y’let me touch you earlier so it’s not like you’ve suddenly found me totally repulsive.” A thought occurs to him and he cranes his neck to peer up at Vasquez. “It wasn’t the dark-eyed beauty crack, was it? Because, let’s be honest, I’ve called you far worse things and you’ve only laughed at me.”

Vasquez huffs for the seemingly umpteenth time, but Faraday doesn’t think he’s imagining the tiny glint of amusement lurking in his eyes.

“Not the dark-eyed beauty crack,” he decides. He clicks his tongue thoughtfully and brings his hands down to fold them on top of his stomach. “Are you honestly up in arms because I didn’t want to go over the damn book again? Because we really have done that a hundred times or more now, so I don’t think I deserve to get yelled at for it.”

“Who’s yelling?” Vasquez asks.

“You are,” Faraday replies. “Just very quietly. That’s possible, you know.”

“You make no sense, guero.”

“Well, look who’s talkin’,” Faraday says, beginning to feel exasperated. “Okay. Not my previous comment, and not the ignoring of the stupid book.” He cocks his head at Vasquez, who shrugs. “Right, not the book.”

Faraday drums his fingers over his stomach, deep in thought. “I didn’t happen to break somethin’ of yours without realizin’ it again, did I?” Vasquez shakes his head, and Faraday nods. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

“Hmm,” Faraday hums to himself. It seems like he’s getting nowhere fast with his inquiries. “Exactly how much longer are you going to make me continue this guessin’ game?”

“I am not making you do anything,” Vasquez says, and now he sounds downright snide. “We both know you will just do what you want regardless of what I’m interested in.”

Something about the way he says this sets a small flare of suspicion niggling around in Faraday’s brain, but it’s almost entirely drowned out by the equally sudden but far more intense flare of ire stemming from the words. “Oh, now that’s it,” Faraday snaps, sitting up and crowding into the little bubble of personal space Vasquez has been trying to carve out for himself. “Enough is enough _, hombre_. Start talkin’!”

Vasquez opens his mouth to respond – no doubt with some variation of ‘You know I hate it when you call me that’ – but only manages a surprised “Oomph!” noise when Faraday launches himself at him, landing heavily on his stomach. They wrestle for a few seconds, but Faraday has the element of surprise on his side and manages to maintain his position, straddling Vasquez’s waist and pinning his wrists with his hands to keep the other man from shoving him off.

Faraday meets Vasquez’s ensuing glare as best he can, and prays that he ends up walking away from this little stunt with only minimal retribution. Vasquez is not a particularly nice man when crossed.

“Now then,” he says as firmly as he can manage. “Let’s talk, shall we?”

“Don’t want to.” Vasquez says mulishly.

Faraday feels his eyebrows start to rise towards his hairline. “You know,” he says slowly, “most folks would say _I’m_ the immature one out of the pair of us, but I think some opinions might get reversed if they could see you right now.”

Vasquez growls low in this throat and tries to tug his arms free of Faraday’s grip.

“Vas,” Faraday says, having none of it and refusing to let go. “ _Vasquez_.”

Vasquez mutters something, but it’s in Spanish so Faraday doesn’t have a hope of understanding him.

“In English, please.”

All that gets him is a headshake of denial. Time for a different tactic. If he can’t annoy the truth out of Vasquez, maybe he can coax it out of him more gently.

“Hey,” he says softly, releasing Vasquez’s arms from his grip and leaning in slowly so that he can nuzzle slightly at the side of the other man’s face. “Tell me what’s wrong, yeah? What’d I do to upset you?”

Vasquez leans his face away from Faraday and says something in Spanish. It might be a repetition of the same words from before, but he can’t be sure.

“Vassss.” Faraday whines, throwing his head back in frustration for a moment, and then leaning back down.

Vasquez crosses his arms over his chest and refuses to meet Faraday’s eye. Even more damningly, there’s a faint blush tinting his cheeks, meaning that whatever his problem is, he’s embarrassed by it.

“Vas, I ain’t movin’ until you tell me what’s wrong with you.” Faraday says adamantly. “Which is gonna be a hell of a problem if you don’t come clean soon, since we’re supposed to be hittin’ the road first thing tomorrow.”

Reaching out with one hand, Faraday curls his thumb and forefinger around Vasquez’s chin and pulls until they’re facing each other directly. “Please?” He asks softly, hoping the tone might help. “What is it?”

Wrinkling his nose, Vasquez jerks out of Faraday’s grasp, but continues meeting his eye. He’s still blushing, and the color only gets darker when he opens his mouth and says, “It was about the waiting.”

“What?” Faraday has no idea what that’s supposed to mean.

Vasquez growls low in his throat, like he’s frustrated, only Faraday’s pretty sure this time he’s more annoyed with himself than he is with anybody else. “The waiting,” he says again. “That is what I am angry about.”

Faraday racks his brains to try and figure out just what in the hell _that’s_ supposed to mean – honestly, you’d think the man would be slightly less hard to understand when he was speaking English - , and he thinks he has it when his own words suddenly come back to him. _I already had one of those waitin’ for me back in my room._ He blinks. “Are you sayin’ you’re all up in arms because I left you alone here for a couple of hours?”

Vasquez doesn’t answer verbally, but his heavy, embarrassed silence tells Faraday everything he needs to know.

“You told me you didn’t want to come with me!” Faraday barks, throwing his arms up to fully illustrate how frustrated he is. He only barely prevents himself from toppling over onto the side of the bed as a result of the motion. “I left you alone like you wanted!”

“I never said I wanted to be left _alone_ , idiota,” Vasquez snaps. “I only said I did not want to go _out_.”

“Yeah, because you wanted to mess around with the damn ledger again,” Faraday says, only to bring himself up short as soon as the words have left his mouth. They’d already established that Vasquez _hadn’t_ had any interest in going through the ledger again, which meant …

Faraday pinches the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t want to mess around with the damn ledger.”

Vasquez shakes his head.

“And, just so we’re clear, you didn’t want to come with me to the saloon.”

Vasquez shakes his head again.

“Because you wanted me to stay here with you instead.”

Vasquez’s nod is hesitant when it comes, but it comes nevertheless.

“Then why in hell’s name didn’t you just fuckin’ say so?” Faraday explodes. “Lord, God, I wouldn’t’ve gone anywhere if I’d known that.”

Vasquez stares up at him in surprise. “You were the one who suggested going out in the first place!”

“Because we haven’t seen the inside of a town in weeks,” Faraday protests. “Forgive me for thinkin’ we both might want to experience a spot of civilization when we got the chance.”

Now Vasquez rolls his eyes. “I already told you what part of civilization I wanted to experience tonight.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Yes, I did,” Vasquez hisses. “I did when I told you I wanted to _make use of the bed_.”

“Ah.” Faraday says, pausing to let that sink in for a moment. “It is possible,” he says slowly, “that I misinterpreted what you meant by that.”

“No shit,” Vasquez grumbles, apparently having decided to take up a phrase more commonly used by Faraday and some of their friends to better express his ire.

Faraday’s now willing to acknowledge that most of the difficulty they’re experiencing at the moment is a result of his own actions, but he doesn’t think Vasquez should be entirely absolved of all guilt. “You could’ve just said somethin’ when I was leavin’,” he mutters, shifting up a little so that he can cross his arms and glare down at Vasquez. “I thought you were stayin’ behind because you wanted to get actual work done, and I figured you’d want me out of your hair.”

“Figured wrong.” Beneath him, Vasquez mimics Faraday’s posture and crosses his own arms over his chest, though he still makes no move to buck Faraday off.

“Yeah, I got that, thanks.”

They both fall silent then, each of them just staring at the other consideringly, and it occurs to Faraday how ridiculous the situation is, how ridiculous they’re both being. As he thinks about it, he can’t help but laugh.

Vasquez quirks an eyebrow at him. “Something funny, guero?”

“There sure is,” Faraday says with a nod. “And I can’t be the only one who thinks so.”

Uncrossing his arms, he leans forward so that he can curl over Vasquez, propping himself up on his arms and effectively trapping the man in with his body. “We,” he says slowly, “are essentially sittin’ here arguin’ about a miscommunication that is now a moot point given that I’m back and you never left this room to begin with. Are you honestly gonna tell me you don’t find that the smallest bit foolish?”

Vasquez purses his lips thoughtfully. “Maybe a little,” he admits.

“Or maybe a lot,” Faraday decides. He moves in and noses at Vasquez’s temple, and then drops a light kiss in the same spot. “I think,” he says lowly, “that you should tell me how I can make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me, hmm?” Vasquez echoes.

“Mmhm,” Faraday agrees. “”Cause the way I see it, the whole reason we’re in this mess is because I didn’t know what you wanted in the first place. Therefore, if you tell me what you want from me, it’ll make things better.”

“So you want to know what I want then?”

“That is what I just said, yes.” Faraday agrees.

Beneath him, Vasquez finally uncrosses his arms and brings his hands up to tug Faraday’s shirt free of his trousers, curling warm fingers under the fabric, stroking his thumbs over the skin revealed between where the shirt ends and the trousers start.

Faraday feels his breath catch at the touch, and looking down at Vasquez he sees the exact moment when the man’s mouth curls up in a smirk. He laughs. “That’s what you’re after, huh?” He grins. “It’s probably doable. I mean, seein’ as we’re here in a nice room, with a door that locks, as opposed to out in the open with half a dozen travelling companions who are all too willin’ to make cracks at a man for bein’ too loud for their tastes.”

Vasquez’s smirk grows. “That was what I was thinking, yes. So, what will you do about it?”

Faraday pretends to ponder this for a moment, but stops when Vasquez makes an annoyed sound and pinches the skin above his hip. “Alright, alright,” he says, ducking down so he can catch Vasquez’s mouth in a kiss, just a gentle press of lips to get his attention. He feels Vasquez laugh beneath him, but it morphs into a groan when Faraday deepens the kiss.

“How’s that?” Faraday asks when he pulls back, flicking his tongue out and running it along his bottom lip.

“It’s a start,” Vasquez tells him. His breathing is maybe slightly more ragged than it was before, but that’s the only sign he’s feeling any effects from Faraday’s actions.

Faraday huffs a laugh, and sits back so that he can pull off the shirt Vasquez has already helpfully untucked for him.

“Oh, very nice,” Vasquez says appreciatively, running his hands lightly along the bare skin of Faraday’s sides. “This I approve of.”

“You’re too kind,” Faraday snorts. He tentatively grinds his hips down just to see what’ll happen, and is rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Vasquez. “Now that _I_ approve of.”

Vasquez responds by hooking his arms around the back of Faraday’s neck and dragging him down and into another kiss. Their mouths crash together, lush and warm and oh so good, and it’s Faraday’s turn to groan when Vasquez bites down lightly on his bottom lip, worrying it gently between his teeth in exactly the way he knows Faraday likes.

Hissing, Faraday works a hand in between the two of them, and gets his fingers around the hem of Vasquez’s shirt. He’s able to tug it up only so far, winding up with it bunching up just over Vasquez’s stomach, but Vasquez gets with the program fast enough as he breaks off the kiss so that he can reach down and tug it off the rest of the way.

Satisfied, Faraday slides slowly down the length of Vasquez’s body, leaving a trail of kisses as he goes.

Vasquez wriggles appreciatively, bucking up when Faraday nips at the spot right above the jut of his hip and then flicks his tongue over the mark for good measure. “Faraday,” he murmurs, voice dropping into the low register that arousal always keys in him.

Faraday ceases his current activities and raises his head to look at Vasquez’s face. His eyes have gone dark and his bottom lip is swollen – indicating he’d been biting it while Faraday had gone to work on his chest. He smiles. “You called, handsome?”

That earns him a snort, and Vasquez bucks his hips up again. “Stop playing,” he growls.

“Who’s playin’?” Faraday asks, and then barely dodges out of the way when Vasquez tries to knee him in the head. “Hey!”

“Faraday,” Vasquez says, more insistently this time.

“Alright, alright,” Faraday mutters. “Honestly, you ain’t usually this pushy.”

“That’s because usually you don’t _tease_.”

“Who’s teasin’?” Faraday asks. He shifts down and sucks another mark into Vasquez’s skin, this one over his other hip. “I,” he says, pointedly laving at the spot with his tongue, “am simply takin’ the time to make it good for you.”

Vasquez mutters something rude sounding in Spanish, and Faraday grins. “What was that?”

“Nothing you need to know,” Vasquez grits out. “Now would you please just – _ah_ ,” he hisses when Faraday bites him again, sharper this time. “ _Geuro_.”

Chuckling, Faraday pushes himself up on one arm, and uses his free hand to cup Vasquez through the heavy fabric of his trousers. “I suppose you’re after somethin’ more like this, hmm?”

“Sí,” Vasquez groans, his stomach muscles constricting as he sucks in a breath. “For starters.”

Faraday strokes the length of him through his pants, enjoying the way he can feel Vasquez hardening beneath his palm, but he makes no move to do anything further. Unsurprisingly, that causes Vasquez to make a frustrated noise, and he brings his arms up like he’s thinking of taking matters into his own hands.

“No.” Faraday says firmly when he sees this. “You just keep your hands to yourself for now, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

“You’re not doing anything,” Vasquez growls, his breath catching when Faraday stills his hand completely.

“I said I’ve got this.” Faraday assures him. “Hands down now, please.”

Still growling, Vasquez curls his hands under the pillow he’s resting his head on, and glares up at Faraday. “You had better make this worth my while,” he says, voice low and warning.

“Have I ever not?” Faraday asks. He pulls his hand back, ignoring Vasquez’s irritated groan, and crawls back up the bed to capture the man’s mouth with his own. This kiss is harsher than the ones before, Vasquez apparently having decided to work out his issues by biting Faraday hard enough that Faraday’s surprised he doesn’t draw blood, and by the end of it they’re both panting raggedly into each other’s mouths.

“Better,” Faraday says nonsensically as he pulls back. “Lift up for me, would you?”

“Hm?” Vasquez makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, but he clues in fast enough when Faraday tugs at the hem of his trousers, raising his hips obligingly so that Faraday can pull them down. He kicks himself free of them once they’re down far enough, sending them flopping over the end of the bed with a flick of one foot, no doubt so they won’t be in the way.

Faraday takes a moment to admire the sight he makes, every gorgeous bit of him on display, and has to shake his head to clear it, lest he get distracted. He idly runs the tips of his fingers along Vasquez’s side, smirking at the full body shudder his doing so elicits.

“You’re still teasing, guero,” Vasquez hisses accusingly, trying unsuccessfully to squirm away from Faraday’s touch.

Faraday makes a noncommittal noise at this, and then flashes him a grin he knows is just this side of wicked. Bending down he gently takes Vasquez’s cock in hand and licks a single hot stripe along the length of him, gratified when Vasquez gasps and arches ever so slightly up off the bed.

“You like that, huh?” He asks, and does it again.

They’ve done this countless times at this point, over and over since fate had first thrown them together all those months ago, part of another man’s crusade that neither of them should ever have lived to see the end of. Still, they _had_ lived, if only by the skin of his teeth in Faraday’s case, and an event like that was enough to put matters in perspective. There wasn’t any point in denying what they each wanted, not in the slightest.

Keeping these thoughts to himself, Faraday breaks off with the licking, choosing instead to swallow down the head of Vasquez’s cock, humming approvingly to himself when the other man lets out a muffled keen. Faraday can’t see it right now, not from this angle, but he’s familiar enough with Vasquez to know he’s likely thrown a hand or an arm over his own mouth in a bid to prevent anyone from hearing them.

He’s a loud one, is Vasquez. Personally, Faraday appreciates it.

His jaw aching, Faraday takes in as much of Vasquez as he can, not caring when Vasquez almost chokes him by thrusting up too roughly. Gagging, he pulls off for only long enough to get his throat under control, and then he swipes a hand over the saliva he can feel running along his chin before going right back down again.

He uses his hands to work anything his mouth can’t handle, and goes on like that until he can feel Vasquez start to tense beneath him, the clenching of his stomach muscles and shaking of his thighs an obvious tell that he’s on the verge of coming. That just makes Faraday suck harder, intent on reaching his goal, and he’s surprised to say the least when Vasquez abruptly tangles a hand in his hair, giving it a vicious enough tug upwards that Faraday’s only choices are to either let himself be dragged away from what he’s doing or lose a chunk of his curls.

“The hell?” He chokes, gasping in confusion. He reaches up with both hands to yank himself free of Vasquez’s grasp, and then frowns down at the man. “I do somethin’ wrong there, sweetheart?”

Vasquez, with his skin flushed and his bottom lip clamped firmly between his teeth, shakes his head roughly, but doesn’t say anything. His entire body is shaking, his sides heaving as he fights to get himself under control, and as Faraday watches, he digs his free hand into the bedding under him, his fingers clutching so tightly that Faraday fears he might punch them right through the mattress.

Concerned, Faraday lets go of where he’d still been holding onto Vasquez’s wrist after prying the man’s fingers free from his hair, and moves to crowd into him. “What is it?” He asks lowly, nosing at the side of Vasquez’s face. “C’mon, tell me what you need.”

He reaches back with one hand, intent on returning to the task of bringing Vasquez off, only to have Vasquez lash out lightening quick and slap him away.

Alright then, apparently they’d reached the point in the proceedings when it was time for things to take an unexpected turn.

Faraday does his best to focus on Vasquez’s face. He’s still biting down heavily on his lip, the skin around it having gone white thanks to the pressure of his teeth, and his eyes have fluttered shut at some point when Faraday wasn’t watching. In short, he looks wrecked and like he’s mere moments away from losing control.

As pretty as that sight may be, however, it doesn’t help Faraday at all when it comes to figuring out what the hell Vasquez is playing at. That’s why he curls a hand around the man’s chin, forcing his head up and shaking him gently until his eyes open and he meets Faraday’s gaze.

Faraday stares back at him, “You, my beauty,” he says firmly, enjoying the way Vasquez isn’t yet quite far gone enough not to roll his eyes at him, “need to tell me what you want me to do. I am gettin’ some seriously mixed signals right now, so you usin’ your words would be helpful.”

Vasquez tries to shake free of Faraday’s grip, growling a little when Faraday doesn’t let him, and pushes out of a deep, ragged breath. “I don’t want …” he starts, “I mean, I want …” He trails off with another shake of his head, his face heating as Faraday watches.

It’s the blush that tips him off. “Ohh,” Faraday says knowingly. Really, he should have guessed. There’s only one thing they get up to together that Vasquez never seems to want to actually _ask_ for. “So it’s like that, is it?”

Vasquez growls again, the uncharacteristic blush still staining his cheeks, and this time when he tries to shake free of Faraday’s grasp, Faraday lets him.

Shifting back, Faraday does his best to get around Vasquez’s form without jostling him too much, and climbs off the bed. “Did you put the slick in my pack or yours this time?” He asks as his feet hit the floor.

“Yours,” Vasquez grits out from behind him. Faraday hears him draw in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, and smirks a little.

Their bags are in a haphazard pile near the table, and Faraday has to kneel down on the floor as he separates one from the other. He roots around in his own until he feels his fingers trace over the ridges of a small glass bottle, and he pulls it free with a triumphant noise. Reaching up, he rests it lightly on the table above him and then clambers to his feet with a minimum of fuss.

Figuring there’s no time like the present, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his trousers and shucks them onto the floor so that they’re out of the way. Then he grabs the bottle and turns back to the bed, his stomach twisting as he takes in the sight Vasquez makes, splayed out across the mattress and all for him.

“Mmm,” Faraday murmurs as he settles back onto the bed, Vasquez – who seems to have at least temporarily gotten himself under control - shuffling over slightly to make room for him. “I could get used to this,” he says, dropping the bottle somewhere in the bedcovers and catching Vasquez’s mouth with his own, licking his way inside and swallowing down the gasp Vasquez lets out in surprise.

“What was that for?” He asks when Faraday pulls back.

“Nothin’,” Faraday tells him. “Was just somethin’ I wanted to do. Now, c’mere.”

He shuffles around on the bed, arranging them both to his satisfaction and making sure he knows where the bottle of slick ended up since they’re not getting anywhere tonight without that. “You want it on your back or your front tonight?” He asks, not having a preference himself.

Vasquez doesn’t reply verbally, but he makes his choice obvious when he rolls over onto his stomach and pillows his head on his arms.

“Works for me” Faraday says, running a hand over Vasquez’s flank, enjoying the way the man shivers at his touch. He drops a couple of kisses on the notches of Vasquez’s spine, and then grabs for the bottle he’d dropped earlier.

His hands are sweating, which means the top gives him some trouble until he growls and pulls at it with his teeth. Vasquez lets out a muffled snicker at the sound, and Faraday smacks him lightly on the side of the hip in reproach.

“Hush up, you,” he says, spitting the top out and catching it quickly with his free hand before it can either hit the ground or get lost among the bedcovers. He tosses it easily onto the table beside the bed and then tips the bottle over and lets a generous portion of the slick pool out into the palm of his hand.

It’s cold, albeit not freezing, and he places the bottle down on the table as well so that he can rub it between his fingers, warming it up.

“Doin’ alright down there, sweetheart?” He asks, casting a glance over at Vasquez’s face.

Vasquez, his chin still pillowed on his arms, quirks an eyebrow at him. “Starting to fall asleep, I think.”

Faraday briefly considers smacking him again, but he’s already getting slick everywhere and doesn’t want to add to the mess. Instead, he settles for making a scoffing noise. “I’d know if you were fallin’ asleep. It’s impossible to miss what with how you snore loud enough to wake the dead most nights.”

Vasquez makes an affronted noise, but Faraday ignores him. “Need you up on your knees now, Vas. C’mon, shift yourself for me, yeah?”

Still grumbling to himself, Vasquez nevertheless does as requested and gets onto his hands and knees. Faraday feels a bolt of heat go shooting through him at the sight, and has to sternly tell his body to calm down for just a little longer.

Slipping one slicked up finger inside of Vasquez gets him a gratifying gasp, and Faraday presses a series of feather-light kisses over the small of the man’s back as he slowly begins working him open.

A second finger goes in easily enough, and Faraday twists them together, crooking them as he probes for the spot that’s always guaranteed to make Vasquez come apart in his hands. He knows the moment he finds it because Vasquez lets out a guttural moan, one that’s ripped out of him before he has the chance to try and stifle it, and his entire body shudders.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Faraday soothes, curving his free hand over Vasquez’s hip, running it up and down in a gentle sweeping motion. “You need me to slow down?”

“No,” Vasquez gasps, screwing his eyes shut as he shakes his head furiously. “Es bueno, guero.”

Faraday’s Spanish skills leave much to be desired, but he knows ‘good’ when he hears it and takes this as permission to add a third finger, humming approvingly to himself when Vasquez gasps again and pounds one clenched fist against the mattress.

He takes his time making sure Vasquez is properly stretched, before withdrawing his fingers and reaching for the bottle of slick again. “Still good?” He asks, running his oil covered hand over his cock.

“Sí, maldita!” Vasquez barks. “Now, stop talking and _move_.”

Faraday considers making some crack about how demanding he’s being, but thinks better of it and does as he’s told, lining himself up behind Vasquez and slowly sliding into the tight heat of him, groaning as the intense feelings of pleasure threaten to rob him of any sense of rational thought.

For his part, Vasquez is no better, his arms buckling as Faraday fucks all the way into him, sending him crashing down onto his elbows, moaning for all he’s worth. God, but Faraday loves him like this, keyed up and desperate for anything Faraday gives him, his entire body writhing with pleasure.

“God, _fuck_ ,” Faraday groans, thrusting his hips forward hard enough that he sends them both a few inches up the bed. “Fuck, you feel amazin’.”

“Tu también,” Vasquez groans, his voice rough and ragged.

Faraday takes that as a sign to speed up his movements and reaches around so that he can fist Vasquez’s cock with his hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts, revelling in the noises his actions pulls from the man’s throat, wild and untamed like he doesn’t even remember how to try and reign them in.

When Vasquez comes it’s with a choked off cry that sets his whole body shaking as he sags onto the bed, his knees apparently no longer able to hold him up. Startled, Faraday goes down with him, landing heavier than he’d meant to.

“ _Fuckin’_ _Christ_ ,” he swears, feeling like all the breath is being pushed out of his body. “Vas, sweetheart, I’ve gotta … Can I?”

He doesn’t have the words to say what he’s asking for, can’t find them with the way his entire psyche is caught up with the sensations coursing through him, up and over, but Vasquez, oh Vasquez understands him nevertheless.

“Sí,” he groans, body still shuddering through the aftershocks, “está bien. It’s fine.”

Faraday takes that as all the permission he needs and he starts up again, rocking his body over Vasquez’s, bucking up into him until he finally reaches his peak and follows Vasquez over the edge he’s already toppled over.

He temporarily sprawls on top of Vasquez as he fights to get his breath back, panting heavily against the back of the other man’s neck, but he can only do that for so long. Vasquez slaps at him half-heartedly when his weight starts to become too much, so Faraday carefully pulls out and then rolls onto his back.

“ _Shit_ ,” he breathes, once he can speak again. He stares up at the ceiling, slowly coming down from his high, and therefore misses it when Vasquez’s hand comes out of nowhere and smacks him heavily in the stomach.

“The fuck?” He yelps. He starts to turn, fully prepared to give Vasquez a piece of his mind, only to see that he’s not even facing him.

Faraday lets out an annoyed huff – he doesn’t particularly appreciate having his afterglow disrupted, thank you very much – and pushes himself up on one arm so that he can lean over and get a look at the half of Vasquez’s face that isn’t smushed into a pillow. “Did you want something then?”

The corner of Vasquez’s mouth that he can see curves up in a grin. “Washcloth,” he says, voice muffled by the pillow, and Faraday bites back the urge to start swearing again.

“Why’s it me who’s always gotta do that part?” He grumbles, even as he starts sliding down the bed so that he can swing his legs over the edge and do as requested. Or ordered, rather. “Every goddamned time.”

There’s a rustling of bedding that indicates Vasquez is shifting around, and when he speaks again his voice isn’t as muffled as it had been. “Think of it as a compliment,” he says, voice thick and tired sounding. “Means you’re so good I can’t move after.”

Faraday snorts as he pads over to the room’s tiny wash basin and grabs what he’s after. “I reckon it’s more like you’re just a lazy bastard.”

He runs the cloth lightly over himself, not really caring about the mess at the moment, and stops partway back to the bed to haul his underclothes out of the pile with his trousers and tug them on. “Y’want your pants while I’m down here? Keep in mind, I ain’t movin’ again after this.”

Vasquez momentarily twists around enough to look at him, and shakes his head before flopping back down into the bedclothes.

“Fine, but I’m goin’ to remember that in the morning when you start whining about sleepin’ naked again.” Climbing back onto the bed, he tosses the cloth at Vasquez, and settles in behind him as he makes quick work with it. “Good?” He asks, once Vasquez has dropped the cloth back over the side of the bed.

“Yes,” Vasquez replies, lying back down with a contented sigh.

Faraday watched him for a moment or two, lets him find a position he seems comfortable with, and then curls an arm around his waist, tugging until they’re properly tangled together. He hauls Vasquez in so that his back is pressed up against Faraday’s chest, not enough space between them to slide a penny through.

Vasquez makes another contented noise and laces the fingers of one his hands in with those connected to the arm Faraday has slung over him.

They simply breathe together quietly for several long moments, and Faraday’s just starting to drift off when he hears Vasquez say, “Much better than the saloon, no?”

*****

Hettie Calloway is sitting out on the front porch of her establishment when they ride out the next day. Faraday reigns Jack in just enough that he slows down some as they approach her and tips his hat in her direction.

“Ms. Calloway,” he says with a grin.

She matches it with one of her own. “Mr. Faraday. I see you’re on your way out then.” She lets her gaze drift back and for between him and Vasquez a couple of times, and Faraday lets his grin get even broader.

Her eyes widen momentarily, and then she throws her head back, laughing uproariously.

He almost thinks he can still hear the sound when they hit the town limits.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. Also, I hate the title and may change it later if I can think of something better.


End file.
